The wind whispers, running icy fingers along my ears, caressing my hands. My hair now pulls loose, cavorting in the air. The grumbling clouds begin to gather, drawing a dark curtain against the sky. Blocking the coveted view of the rising Super Moon.
The temperatures have dropped 10 degrees since we started riding. My machine screams it’s high pitched whine. We dart through allies agitating the neighborhood dogs. They voice their opinion about our presence in their kingdom. The deep baritone voices compete with the sharp yipping of barking mice.
The neighbors wave as we go by. Some of my students yell out greetings, as we cruise the streets on our ATVs. Returning home I laugh as I try to warm my freezing hands on Dan’s warm skin.
